


Battle Sign

by Tom_Tomorrow



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, Coma, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protectiveness, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 12:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14402427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tom_Tomorrow/pseuds/Tom_Tomorrow
Summary: Sometimes she thinks it would be easier to come in the aftermath, to not know what happened, to not see horrific atrocities occur in real time. She understands now that the pain of the moment can never exceed the woe of the aftermath.... ... .. .. . ..Reign makes her first appearance. It doesn't end well.





	Battle Sign

**Author's Note:**

> A reimagining of the first Reign fight of the season finale. 
> 
> An alternate universe in that the Legion isn't back, Sanvers hasn't broken up, Lucy hasn't left and Vasquez is more present and is a medic because I made it so.

Sometimes she thinks it would be easier to come in the aftermath, to not know what happened, to not see horrific atrocities occur in real time. Because sometimes she would like to think that not seeing it happen would spare her of the ruin, the tragedy, and the trauma...

Maggie doesn’t think she could have witnessed it.

She could barely understand what had been relayed over the police radio and when she does finally pull up on the scene, slamming metal doors, parting from the illuminated blue-reddish swirling light, moving so fast that Davidson had barely been able to unbuckle himself from the confines of the police squad car, she understands horrifically… that the pain of the moment can never exceed the woe of the aftermath.

Pale darkness has fallen across the metropolitan roads of a chilled National City illuminated only by the amber streetlights, news helicopter spotlights, and the ornament milky moon spitting snow from the cloudy sky, coating the ground in a slick sheet of ice.

Hushed murmurs emanate from too quiet crowds, drawn to tragedy like flies to light, reluctantly parting for the badge the detective holds with icy urgency, but unwilling to relinquish their spots in the viewing experience because the tragedy has already been written.

Thick clumps of snowflakes pirouette in dresses on their way to the glassy, pink road, but in the light of the sparkling fire, the snow burns. One, two, four cars overturned, crushed, flipped to the side… the gasoline seeping from them spill green and purple rainbows on the concrete. Intermingling amongst ragged chunks of concrete, shattered glass, and fueled flickering flame.  

But it’s the epicenter that stops her.

Maggie freezes in step, clenches her fists, and blinks hard as if to erase the image, as if it may just be a bad dream that she can will away.

She opens her eyes again.

The image doesn’t change and only sharpens.

Because thirty, forty feet away, a body coated in dust and glass and metallic redness, writhes on the ground.

Supergirl is coated in dust and glass and metallic redness, writhing on the ground.

And Maggie realizes she isn’t the first one on the scene.

Lucy’s already there, kneeling near at Kara’s head, saying something she can’t quite hear as she approaches.  Vasquez is just off to the side, rooting frantically through a black medical bag.

The surface below the detective is slick with the hero’s blood, glittering glass reflecting red and the yellow of the street lights as she skids to a stop in front of the trio.

Bruised and bloodied, hands twitching, and back arching painfully from the concrete is a pale imitation of one of the world’s mightiest heroes.

_What happened?_

For a moment, she wonders if those words were even spoken aloud because at first, no one seems to register her presence, frenzied and caught up in the frantic tension.

“Where’s Al- Alexugh? Wherizhe?”

Kara slurs, a wet, hitching rasp that the detective can see tremble up her throat and out her mouth like the pants of a dying animal, hands reaching out blindly, grasping at something that isn’t there.

Muted crimson seeps from somewhere behind the bloody, clotted mess of her previously golden hair into the melting snow around her.

But… Supergirl never bleeds. Not against Superman. Not against anything.

_What happened?_

“Hey... Hey, you need to calm down… Come on calm down for me…”

Lucy is saying soothingly, her steady, gentle tone a complete paradox of the severity of the situation. Military background and rigorous training allowing her to mask her expression and maintain that warped professionalism even when Maggie can imagine her brow furrowing frustration and worry. She’d always been like that, the calm in the storm, but this was no normal storm.

Something emanates from the muscular blonde, a noise caught between confusion and agony, as her eyes, pupils large and dilated, exude the aura of something far, far away, and wrong, wrong, wrong, instead of any actual acknowledgment of what Lucy is saying.

“What happened?”

Maggie utters, finding her voice for the time as more blood pours on the white.

Her question goes ignored, overtaken by voices layering on top of each other. High to low. Panicked to calm.

Vasquez is fiddling with a tablet, shaking hands scanning it with precision over the hero’s fallen form.

And Kara’s fingers twitch again, reaching out as Lucy maneuvers out of the way.

“Augh… Augh! Al-Alexsh… Alexugh.”

The blonde rasps, swallowing hard against the crimson that froths in her mouth and leaks from her ears.

Maggie grimaces, low and hitching, and feels something tighten across her shoulders.

Alex is on desk duty. Has been for the last week, when a particularly aggressive criminal had shattered her tibia and fractured her wrist trying to get away. He hadn’t lasted long after she and Lucy had found out. And Lucy had been the one to replace Alex in the field, arguing that all the paperwork had been making her lazy.

The detective leans down, squats next to them, reaches to push Kara’s hands back down as Davidson ushers the crowd back behind her.

“Don’t!”

The detective freezes and she can count the moments of tense silence that follow while she waits for Lucy’s explanation.

“Her powers are still there.”

The other brunette murmurs without looking up, switching a newly acquired penlight to Kara’s other eye, frowning when they don’t constrict, and Maggie realizes with somber realization the cobweb-like cracks on the ground likely came from Supergirl.

So she reluctantly withdraws.

“What happened?”

A frustrated mutter in the back of her raw throat as she tries again.

“An unknown Kryptonian happened. The one who’s been leaving all those burns around the city. It’s stronger than we thought. ”

Vasquez says distractedly, her focus remaining on the tablet that spouts off various medical information, and to Lucy, she mutters…

“Her intracranial pressure is still rising, there’s hemorrhage from the orifices, and bruising on the mastoid processes. Lane, these are all signs of-”

“I know. ”

Lucy cuts her off, voice hard and sharp.

“No! You _don’t_ know! She needs oxygen, mannitol for the pressure, propofol for sedation, the sun lamps! We don’t even know if any of that will even work. And we won’t because I can’t give her any of it here. We need to get her out of here. NOW.”

Few people talk to the director like that. But Vasquez isn’t one to shy away.

“ETA for medevac is still a few minutes out, there isn’t anything I can do about that!”

Lucy snaps back, a slight tremor betraying her confidence.

_But there has to be something, you can do about that._

Vasquez shoots something back in response.

But Maggie ignores them both, emotions are getting high, wringing out the tension in words that aren’t purposeful, because Kara’s everyone’s kid sister, even when she’s the strongest of them all.

“You with me, Little Danvers?”

She whispers as loud as she dares, painfully aware of the crowds around them.

Not really.

Hands digging into concrete, eyes unfocused, panting through spikes of agony, stuttering over and over something that vaguely sounds like _ashes_ as she coughs around the yellowish-crimson.

And the crimson is everywhere.

Staining her teeth, streaming in rivulets from her ears, dripping from her nose, bloodshot in her eyes.

Supergirl doesn’t bleed like that. Hell, people don’t bleed like that.

How much blood does a Kryptonian have? How much can she lose?

And if the Kryptonian who did this was that strong, how did anyone else stand a chance?

A barrage of unanswered questions rushes through her head, repeating over and over with exaggerated urgency and barely-controlled desperation until she can barely order the words into any sort of sense to answer them.

_Calm down. Bring yourself back._

She closes her eyes as sound washes over her, hazy-memory overlaying pain-hazy present.

There are more sirens in the distance now. Cops, not DEO, she realizes otherwise this would already be over.

“Does Alex know?”

Maggie forces out as the environment drags her away from her thoughts.

Until the sweet smell of gasoline, burning metal, and metallic crimson sink their claws into her, serving only to spur on her racing heart.

For a long moment neither answer.

“Jesus!  She’s her sister! Does she know?”

Her fingers moved to the radio on her belt, fumbling to get it loose, only realizing then just how badly her hands were shaking. But goddamn if Alex finds out, while they’re pushing Kara through the entrance of the DEO

“I know! I just… let me think.”

They aren’t given the time to think because suddenly the blonde groans.

Her arm jerks up towards her chest, eyes rolling listlessly up into her head, as her back arches almost completely off the ground. Then she’s seizing. Limbs shoved to and fro in an uneven wave of flaccidity and spasticity, muscles straining and jerking in unnatural angles, hitting the ground with unparalleled strength.

Lucy swears, low and vicious, springing away to avoid the uncontrolled blows.

Vasquez is back on her radio, screaming for back up, damning any excuses.

And Maggie swallows hard, caught between trying to do something and realizing there’s nothing to do at all as the ground shakes in tandem with Supergirl’s spasms.

Time moves like hopscotch, from point to indistinct point. Until each blink seems impossibly long, like an eternity between Kara’s ragged breaths and shuddering spasms.

And when she finally stops seizing, unconsciousness snatching her away, Maggie doesn’t know if it’s better or worse.

“Roll her on her side.”

Vasquez instructs as soon as the blonde goes limp and finally, two vehicles are pulling up that belong to the people they need.

Two DEO agents rush forward with a stretcher.

It’s a team effort and Davidson elects to stay behind with the other policemen and policewomen sticking around, deciding to clean up the orange-flame flares and monitor wreckage as the detective elects to go with the Lucy.

The metal doors slamming shut behind them, siren blaring travels too fast, too dangerously, towards the DEO.

Focusing, she feels for the dull heartbeat of the un-moving superhero.

It thumps softly against her fingers to an unsteady beat. Stutters like a broken record.

Barely there.

_Don’t die. Please. Don’t die._

Please.

….. . .. .  .. . . . . . ..  .. ..

It’s all of them in the waiting room. All of them.

As soon as they exited the medevac van, the medical staff had descended upon them, rushing her to the medical bay. Vasquez, right behind them, spouting off things about her temperature, her Glasgow Coma score, her seizure time, her code status… Because she had gotten damn near close.

But now it’s all of them in the waiting room. All of them…

James, paces the area, back and forth, back and forth, like a pinball machine against the walls.

Vasquez in the chair across from her, biting nervously on her thumbnail.

Winn in the seat next to her, flipping through the footage of that the night’s events, trying to ID the unknown Kryptonian.

Lucy standing stiffly at the entrance, shoulders back, head held high, feet spread slightly, but her arms betraying what she’s really feeling, wrapped tightly around herself, trying to hold in her emotion.

Then there was Alex…

She hasn’t looked at anyone, much less talked to anyone, unmoving from the surgical bay window, ever since J’onn had to forcibly stop her from following the stretcher into the surgical bay.   

They all know now to give her, her space.

Two minutes turn into twenty minutes. Then an hour. Then two.

And the detective spends it stiff in her chair, forcing herself to stay awake, despite knowing that she needed just a bit of sleep to face any other problems that might come their way. To stop Lucy and Alex from drowning in their self-guilt, to be ready if the mystery Kryptonian tried to make a reappearance, to be ready and waiting and be the strong one to hold them together.

She knows now, a bit more of what happened. Can see it playing in a loop on Winn’s surveillance footage, grainy and black, as it is compared against every facial recognition database in the world.

A feminine figure in all black, just slamming Kara into the ground.

Over and over until the blonde stops fighting back.

Over and over until Lucy and Vasquez appear from nowhere shooting Kryptonite bullets that scare her off.

Then the track repeats. Again. Again. Again.

It was obvious that what’s being played hadn’t been the beginning of the fight… but it had certainly been the end.

“Winn, you shouldn’t be watching this.”

She mutters voice strained in the effort to keep it steady.  He shrugs her off.

“I have to find them... so they don’t ever do this again.”

His response isn’t as steady, fueled with unshed tears, but it holds so much conviction she doesn’t tell him again. Instead only fades into silence and looks away so she doesn't have to watch the video again.

J’onn comes in three hours after they’d dragged Kara through those surgical bay doors, clearing his throat, gathering everyone’s attention.

Maggie looks up at him, surprised for some unknown reason that he is still there. She does that a lot these days. Shuts herself so in her head that she forgets there are other people in the world.

He swallows.

"It’s a basilar skull fracture," he says, direct and to the point.

"She’s lucky to be alive. There were two more seizures, but the medical team believes she is physically stable enough now to make it through the night. However, with the seizures and the severity of the injury, we have no way of knowing how much damage was sustained."

"To her mind, you mean," James says in a whisper, his words sending chills down her spine.

"Yes," J’onn replies somberly. "I'm sorry. There is no way to tell for sure until she wakes."

J’onn says more things. Says how there wasn’t much more they could do to relieve the pressure because of the impenetrable strength of her skull.  That now it was a waiting game to see if Kara could fight on her own. More things of that nature, but Maggie isn’t listening anymore. She’s looking at Alex.

Looking at the faraway glint in her eyes, seeing her knees shake, watching her hold herself tighter and Maggie knows what’s going to happen and within moments it does.

Alex bolts.

Maggie doesn’t even pause, just immediately turns to follow.

Trailing her as they turn down one hallway then another, becoming more and more isolated.

Then enough is enough.

“Hey, look at me Danvers.”

Maggie asks jumping in front of her, reaching for her arm, forcing her to stop.

Her breath catches in her throat to look at Alex, backlit by the hallway lights so she can’t quite make out her expression, but still feeling the tension drawing tight and uncomfortable between them, the fighting within her, until Maggie can stand it no longer.

“C’mon… you can talk to me… What are you thinking?”

She isn’t going to tell her it’s all going be okay. Not when J’onn just told them it literally may not. But if she doesn't force something out of Alex, the woman would only run and run and run until she couldn’t anymore.

They stare at each other for a moment longer. Then Alex’s shoulders begin to tremble and her eyes water, as she whispers.

“I… I told her to go out there... I told her to fight.”

She sounds horrified as if she had been the one to put Kara into a coma herself.

“No… no, this isn’t your fault. It’s Jane Doe’s and Kara would have done it anyway with the hero complex she has.”

Maggie gently rebuts trying to defuse her self-blame with humor, but when it doesn’t work, Maggie takes her girlfriend by the arm gently pulling her to the ground so they can sit, dropping their weight until they’re sliding against the wall and onto the floor.  

The touch is all it takes for Alex to start crying, grinding the palms of both hands into her forehead and breathing out quiet, shaking sobs.

“She’s got so much fight in her. She’s not gonna give up, Lex. She loves you too much for that.”

Maggie says looking at her with red-rimmed eyes, taking her girlfriend's hand in her own. Squeezing tight, relieved when Alex returns the grasp.

Reluctantly, Alex leans back, face tipping to the ceiling, eyes closed as if in benediction and draw in a deep breath that visibly expands her chest with each shaky breath, tears trailing down her face. Then she nods. Nods because she knows how willful Kara is. Is familiar with her stubbornness that runs strong in the Danvers family, her unwillingness to leave those she loves behind.

Maggie hopes that will be enough to keep Kara with them.

….. . .. .  .. . . . . . ..  .. ..

Nine days pass.

Nine days of James covering for the blonde at CatCo and J’onn covering for her as Supergirl.  

Nine days of tubes shoved down Kara’s throat, of electrodes on her skin, of the artificial sun from the lamps above her and machines reassuring them that even when she’s so terribly still, she’s still there.

Nine days of Lucy and Maggie switching out spots to monitor Alex’s unwavering vigil at her sister’s side, making her eat, making her change clothes, convincing her to at least try and get some sleep.

It’s an arduous task, the dark circles under the eldest Danver’s eyes, though nothing like the raccoon-like bruises her sister had, were a testament to that stubbornness.

Maggie’s vision is fuzzy and keeps dancing in and out of the dark when she wakes for the third time that night. Reminding her that the power nap did nothing for her lack of sleep, her mind barely comprehending what was going on.

The room is dark now, the only light coming from the sun lamps and the screen of her cellphone as she checks the time. Off to her side, Lucy moves, shifting in her own restless sleep, and the detective realizes that it’s her arm, light and gentle and warm, that’s just barely touching her own.

Alex is unmoving at the chair next to her sister, head tucked against the crook of her elbow that rests on the cot. At first glance, it appeared as if she might be sleeping, but Maggie can see her other hand sweeping circles over Kara’s knuckles and knows better because Danvers hasn’t gotten any real sleep in days.

Though the bruises and cuts had slowly started fading, the medical team elected to keep Kara on artificial breathing, not daring to take extra risks. It’s hard to tell if she’s getting better.  Her intracranial pressure has decreased slightly, but her vitals are sporadic. She’d had two more seizures since coming out of surgery. Fortunately, each less violent than the other. Though it doesn’t make it any less devastating.

Now she looks so small, so fragile in oversized DEO sweats, with that damned tube shoved in her mouth, secured in place by straps wrapped around her head, encompassed by the sounds of different machines beeping and whirring beside him.

It takes a moment more for Maggie to gather her wits about her and realize someone's talking.

"Kara... It’s going to be okay. I promise that everything is going to be okay, no matter what happens. You're the most amazing sister I could ever have, and you're so, so strong. I... I know you're going to have to fight hard to make it out of this, but please... please, try as hard as you can. I know you have it in you. Just wake up. Please… Please. I can’t do this without you."

The eldest Danvers whispers.

“El Marayah.”

_Stronger together._

Alex pauses, wiping at her face. Crying.

And it takes everything within the detective to remain still and let Alex have this private moment.

It’s almost impossible.

And Maggie wonders if Kara knows what’s going on, if she’s somewhere inside her brain, trying to break free. If she can hear her sister. She wonders what would happen if that brain is not her’s anymore once she wakes up, unable to shake the image of the Kryptonian slamming her to the ground. Wonders if that would be better than her waking up again.

She swallows hard, bites her lip, and looks away.

And does her best not to cry.

….. . .. .  .. . . . . . ..  .. ..

Christmas has gone and passed. So has New Years.

They’re approaching MLK day when Kara first shows signs of waking up.

Her eyes begin to flutter under closed lids, her fingers twitch sporadically, her vitals finally begin to level off.

But it’s still nothing.

Nothing until almost three weeks after she’d been slammed into the ground, when Kara draws a painful breath that hitches in her chest, the only sound in the silence, and for the first time in weeks opens her eyes.

Maggie had been sitting next to Alex, sweeping her fingers over Alex’s unbandaged hand, lost in her thoughts.    

For a moment neither of them realize what’s happening. Neither of them recognizes what this means.  

She doubts that Kara realizes either, suspended in a half-lidded stupor staring up at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes.

Bloodshot eyes, but they’re open, open, open…

And that means that she’s awake.

Alex stiffens first, voice dry-clicking in disbelief, and then she’s sitting straight, leaning forward.

“Kara…”

Her girlfriend whispers.  

Kara moves, or she attempts to, face contorting into something agonized and confused, as she tries to cover her face with her hands. The tubes in her arms and the cables around her trying to prevent her from doing so, but before they can stop her, Kara’s yanked them out, sending the machines in a cacophony of beeps and wails.

Maggie jumps to mute them, as Alex shifts up so that she’s hovering over the blonde, her face shifting into her sister’s line of sight because Kara hadn’t made any effort to turn in their direction.

Lucy and Winn hover anxiously at the entrance of the room, having been drawn back by the sudden flurry of activity.

“Hey… Hey… It’s alright, it’s alright can you hear me?”

The detective stands by the EKG, watching the exchange with bated breath.

Kara’s brows knit together, eyes jerkily tracking left, then right through dark, bloodshot eyes, not quite focusing on anything, somehow seeing everything. The detective recognizes the tell-tale signs of crying, can see the silent tears stream down the Kryptonian’s temples and sees the blonde’s mouth open, but if only to run her tongue along her teeth, no longer red, no longer bloodstained, because she doesn’t say anything.

“Kara-”

“Am I dead?”

The youngest Danvers’s voice sounds as though it is splintering. As though she is splintering, cracking in two, four. Ten. Slightly off-kilter and scratchy from lack of use.  

Alex leaves the rest of her sentence hanging when Kara speaks. And in any other situation, Maggie would doubt if Kara was speaking literally or metaphorically because that’s something the blonde does. Right now, however, the blonde looks terrified, and Maggie watches Alex take her sister’s hand even though her strength could just as easily take it away.

"Kara," Alex whispers, and her voice is soft and wobbly, just barely echoing throughout the lab. But she clears her throat, and when she next speaks all traces of the brokenness have disappeared. “You’re not dead, you just got hurt…”

It takes long moments for Kara to reacts to Alex’s words.

Empty gaze burrowing into the detective, then flitting to the entrance to stare at Lucy and Winn.

“Did… Did they… Did anyone else get hurt…”

The blonde’s words are coming out slow, a long lag between words and actions, as her line of sight diverts sluggishly to focus back toward Alex.

“No. No one else got hurt.”

Alex hastens to reassure, hastily brushing some of her sister’s blonde hair away from her eyes.

“I’m sorry… I’m... I’m sorry I-I c-couldn’t…”

“It’s okay. Kara. It’s okay. You’re still here. That’s all that matters.”

It is all that matters.

And Kara groans, shivering as unused joints pop as she stretches out her legs as much as she dares, hands going up to cradle her head, eyes scrunching tight.

“What hurts? Do you need anything?”

For a moment, Kara doesn’t say a word, and Maggie briefly wonders if the pain had become too much, but when one eye cracks open there’s a small smile, a whimsical little thing, upturned on her tired features.  

“Potstickers?”

Lucy laughs first, covering her mouth immediately like it wasn’t supposed to slip out.

Then Winn joins in and Maggie can’t stop herself from grinning.

Even Alex, as annoyed as she wants to be, can’t help but smile too.

And though things are far from okay, for the first time, it feels like things are going to be better.

 

 

 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Battle sign is one of the hallmark signs of basilar skull fractures. That and raccoon eyes and bleeding from ears and nose. 
> 
> A lot of race car drivers used to get killed by that when their cars crashed due to the sheer deceleration force until someone changed their way seatbelts worked.
> 
> I thought it'd be interesting to write about that but left it as a happier ending for once.
> 
> When I get out for summer break, I will do an update spree because I feel bad about everyone telling me to update One More Step. 
> 
> Anyways. Thoughts? Suggestions? Prompt ideas?


End file.
